Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
She leans back and winks. "And I'll steal one of these pricey bottles of champagne to help with that breakdown. Emotional crises always feel better with some good alcohol."
A laugh escapes me, and I turn to face the bar. More drinks, more endless circles. Only a couple more hours, and I can go home. All I have to do is make it through the rest of the night, and I’ll never have to see him again. Jackie gives me a hard smack on the ass as I walk away, and I turn to glare at her over my shoulder, playfully.
“Go serve those drinks,” she calls, and I shake my head.
The bartender and his assistant load my tray, and I make the rounds again. I keep my gaze averted, reminding myself that I’m here to make money, but then I catch a glimpse of Sebastian out of the corner of my eye. It feels like he’s hovering at my back, but he’s not doing anything wrong so I don't bother confronting him. I notice that he’s got his phone pressed to his ear, and there’s an uncanny expression etched into his features. I haven’t seen him wear this expression before. It’s not...sadness, but something deeper. Usually, he offers the world nothing but a fake mask, but whatever is going on, on the other line of that phone must be wavering enough for him to forget to keep it in place. Feeling his eyes on me, I look away and continue serving drinks. I don’t want to draw any more attention to myself.
My feet are starting to ache, the pain mirroring the one in my chest, but quitting isn’t an option. Not for me. I make another circle around the room, and as I’m about to turn and head back toward the bar, I’m cut off by another one of Drew's friends. His hulking frame blocks my path. I look up at him, ready to tell him to kick rocks, but the words stick in my throat. In his eyes, I see great sadness and pain. The fake smile I’ve worn all night slips away.
"Please move. I have drinks to serve."
"I will in a minute, but I want you to know this is nothing more than an act. A way for his father to make connections. He doesn't give a shit about that woman. You’re the only thing that matters to him."
The pity in Lee’s tone only angers me further. I don’t want his pity. I don’t want anything but a paycheck from these assholes. "I don't give a shit. If I was the only thing that mattered, he would’ve given me a heads-up, a warning. It doesn’t matter now. He's still a dick. He's always been a dick, and I realize now that I was stupid and blind for getting close to him, but no worries. I understand my place now. But, just to keep things interesting, tell him if he wants to continue tutoring, I'm doubling my fee. Let's call it asshole inflation."
I shove the last drink on my tray into his chest and slip past him, walking away with my head held high. Now that the speeches are over, some of the partygoers start to funnel out, and the people inside thin out. It’s tempting to skip out early, but I can’t risk it, not with so much money on the line. Which sucks when all I want to do is run. It’s hard to ignore his existence when he’s standing across the room, his eyes tracking my every move.
The petty urge to grab one of his friends and take them into the corner and kiss them flits through my brain, but I let it pass. There’s no need to start a fight, at least not until I get my tips. Time trickles by slowly, but I push on. I keep an eye out for Drew, his friends, and his father and maintain my distance at all costs. Any minute now, I’ll be able to walk out of this place and never have to look back to this terrible fucking night.
On my last trek to the bar, I notice Drew's father standing by the back door leading out to the service hall. Something is wrong. I can feel it. Drew saunters up behind him, and I cut my gaze away from them. It's none of my business. He's not my business. He made that very fucking publicly clear. Then why the hell do I care? Why am I wondering if he’s okay? If something is going on?
Despite trying my hardest not to glance back at that door, I do. I can't shake the bad feeling that’s intensifying in my gut with each passing second. I catch a glimpse of Drew's dad holding him by the back of the neck, pulling him into his side. Pain pinches Drew’s features.